Hi-Ho Trauma Days
by Mr. Chump Time
Summary: Timmy is a terrible man, who can't keep friends or do anything productive with his life. Unfortunately, it's only about to get even worse. Rated MA.
1. Chapter 1: Clean Up Time

Chapter 1: Clean Up Time

It had been a week since young Timmy Turner had blown his babysitter's head off with a shotgun. Even so, he was still pissed about the results. His two Godparents, Cosmo and Wanda, would not wish the body away for him, so he had to move it and clean up. However, he let it sit, because he was too busy on his rear end, trolling third graders on 4Chan. Soon enough, however, this situation would reach a breaking point. "God damn it Timmy," Wanda finally shouted, "When the fuck are you going to clean up Vickie's body downstairs?!"

"I'll get to it eventually," he replied, not looking away from his computer screen, "It's not like she's going anywhere."

"You said that a fucking week ago. Sooner or later, your folks are going to find out you're a vicious psychopath. You're lucky they haven't noticed yet."

"They don't notice shit. Why the fuck would you two be around if they actually did?"

"Don't fucking swear at me, shit-for-brains!"

Cosmo sat in his fishbowl, the popular disguise, reading up on his Carl Sagan, "You know Timothy," he said, "If you would do some nice gestures for your parents, they might actually notice you."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Wanda and Timmy replied. At this point, Wanda morphed into a Grizzly bear, and threw Timmy through the wall and down the stairs. "I guess it's time to do some work," he muttered to himself, only hurt in his pride. He wished for a tub of bleach, rubber gloves, and a giant sponge, so he could finally clean up. Blood and brain matter was splattered everywhere from the blast, with Vickie's body lying in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. Thinking back, Timmy thought he could have done a better job seeking a location to murder her, due to the fact that he had to clean both rooms.

He started in the living room, where he scrubbed the blood out of the nice shag carpeting. All went well, until he got to the TV; no matter how hard he tried, he could not get the blood out. Worst of all, the bleach solution seeped into the screen, where it shorted out the thing, causing grey smoke to seep out. "Son of a bitch!" Timmy cried, "What the fuck?! Now I wrecked my damn TV."

Right about then, the token black character, AJ, came through the door, "Hey Tim!" He said to his friend, "How's your…weekend…" he paused looking at the destruction, "What the fuck happened here?"

Not noticing him, Timmy picked up the TV and threw it in AJ's direction, "Mother _fuck!_" he cried. The TV screen broke through on AJ's skull, simultaneously fracturing it and spewing electric discharge into AJ's body. He convulsed for a few minutes and threw him across the room. Only until the TV cord was unplugged in the throw did it stop electrocuting AJ's dead body. He twitched for a few moments and then finally rested eternally. "Aw, son of a bitch," Timmy complained, "_Another body?!_"

"You fucking prick," Wanda chided, "Now you went and killed the only Black character in this show! What the fuck are we going to do about that?! The ACLU is going to sue the shit out of us."

"Shit, I think you're right," Timmy realized, "I really fucking hope his parents weren't members of the Nation of Islam, or we're completely fucked," Timmy resumed his menial task, finally finishing up the kitchen and disinfecting the rooms with bleach solution. Now came the trial of moving the bodies. Knowing that he was a wanted man upriver for murdering Crocker years before, he decided that he shouldn't chuck the bodies in the river. Instead, he would just toss them in a downtown dumpster. "Hell," he told Cosmo and Wanda, "There's dead whores all over the place up there. Two more bodies won't make a difference," He stuffed AJ in a large garbage bag, yet with Vickie, she wouldn't fit. Taking her in the back-yard, he had to saw both her legs off, _then_ stuff those on top of her torso, in the bag. With a heave, he was off in search of a good dumpster. "By the way," he said to his fairies, "Didn't you two have a kid or something?"

"The author of this didn't watch the show that far," Wanda said, "Plus, he didn't want to add that character, the lazy fuck."

Downtown, the three found a perfect alley way to stash the stiffs. "My dear Timothy," Cosmo mused as he pointed to a trash bin, "I believe that dumpster should do the trick."

"Thanks, wise-ass," Timmy replied back. He threw all his might into hoisting Vickie's remains in the trash bin, "I could use a fucking hand here!" he said to the fairies.

"You fucking kidding me?" Wanda shot back, "I'm not gonna help a lousy fuck like you!"

With a sigh, Timmy began to shove AJ into the dumpster. Suddenly, out of the alley darkness appeared Timmy's other friend, Chester. "What's going on Timmy?" he asked jovially, "Tossing your old laundry in the trash like I do?"

"No, asshole. Gimme a hand here, would you?" Timmy muttered and Chester obliged. After they stashed the bodies, Timmy asked, "What the fuck are you doing here on a Monday?"

"Ah, I was just out and about looking for some food. Y'know, some of these restaurants just toss way food for free!"

"You're really that poor?"

"Now that my dad fell off the wagon again. He's been on the junk, and sold everything we owned, you know, like six years ago?"

"Oh yeah, now I remember. That's the reason he got kicked off the Pirates, right?"

"What?"

"You know. The Pittsburgh Pirates Drug Trials? During the 80s? I thought he pitched for them."

"Who?"

"Forget it."

The two began to walk out of the alley when Chester noticed the obvious fairies disguised as pink and green dogs. "Say, Timmy," he nodded, "How long have you had fairy godparents?"

"Oh, for a while now," Timmy replied, lighting up a Camel, "You're the first to notice their terrible disguises. Green and Pink dogs, who the fuck would buy that? This whole city never noticed, what a bunch of idiots." Then he realized, "Aw fuck it, Chester. I gotta kill you too now."

"What?"

"You found out about my fairy godparents," Timmy backed into the alleyway, "Now I've got to kill you."

"Really? That's a fucking stupid rule."

"I know, right? Well, sorry about this, bud."

"Ah, no worries. Just make it quick."

Timmy took aim, when a blinding light flashed above them. "What the fuck was that?" Timmy asked as he looked around. A SCUD missile careened above them, and dropped at an extremely rapid pace. It was bound for their exact location. "I wish for an anti-SCUD missile defense bubble!" Timmy shouted as Cosmo and Wanda obliged.

"Oh sure! Save yourself you miserable fuck!" Chester screamed, "What a no, good, dirty, fucking…" before he could finish his tirade, the missile landed, taking out the entire block with it. The blast sent Timmy in his bubble bounding across the city, bouncing off of buildings as it flew away.

"What the fuck was that for?" Timmy asked as he was through around inside his bubble.

"The author couldn't think of a way to end this shitty chapter," Wanda muttered, "So he's going to try and fnangle a plot into this shit heap."


	2. Chapter 2: Pleasant Arrival

Chapter 2: Pleasant Arrival

Staring into a CCTV screen, three men looked over their handy work, "We missed," One neurotically replied, "We fired off our only SCUD, that we will ever be able to smuggle out of Azerbaijan, and we missed," He was the natural brains of the group, yet accompanying his intellect was anxiety and sheer stupidity from the other three.

"I don't know what happened," the tall other commented, whose lack of brain power made up in his effort and perseverance, "The coordinates were set, the must've been diverted somehow." The three sat in their tent on the outskirts of the city, their command-central of the operation. All three wore green fatigues, relics from the Canadian Army, which buckled under the loss of its only three soldiers.

"How could you possibly miss them?" their commander finally remarked, "Their base is a giant fucking building in the shape of a 'T', how could you _fucking miss them?!_" the commander was shorter than the other two, who had a big attitude and mouth to go along.

The tall one sighed, "Well, maybe we can find another missile to take…"

The neurotic one snagged his collar, "We _can't get another one!_ It took me _five years_ to get that one out of the Azerbaijani Military as a _converted milk tanker!_"

"Hey, hey!" their commander broke up the fight, "If there's going to be any shit-kicking around here, it's going to be done by me! Now what are our options?" he turned to the neurotic one.

"Well, our options are," he flipped though a handy notebook, "One. We can always go the conventional route and ask the city commission and get the ban lifted…"

"We already tried that," the commander interrupted, "Besides, when have we ever been rational and conventional?"

"Point taken. Option Two," he continued, "We could try and find another missile here in our own country…"

"We can't find one in time."

"Next!" the tall one shouted in joy.

"And there's Option Three," the neurotic one shook with fright, "We could go in and destroy the tower by our own force."

The commander paused silently for a moment, then walked outside. Soon the other two followed him, "What do you think?" the tall one asked.

"It's looking like we're going to have to take Option Three," he said as he stared at the big city skyline.

"You can't be serious," the neurotic one cried, "Why the sheer notion of us standing up to those brutes and their special powers, we'll be murdered! Annihilated! There's no chance of us escaping with our very lives if we go up against those thugs! We'll be…"

"_I know!_" the commander twirled around and grabbed his comrade's collar, "But can you live in a world without the sole purpose in life?!"

He shied away, "I, I…No, I can't go on living without…"

"Then it's settled," he let go of his grip and stared back into the morning skyline, "We attack the compound. And soon, our names will be known. We will be victorious; I can smell it in the breeze…"

"Or is that just my morning breath?" the tall one asked.

"Quiet, Lumpy. Anyway, we will bring back our bounty at the end of all this. And when we do,"

The other two chimed together, "We'll be _swimming in contraband jawbreakers!_"

* * *

On the other side of the city, four friends had their mid-morning breakfast to start their day. The leader of the group, a muscular man by the name of Son Goku, dominated the table, by wolfing down everyone else's food. With him, was his son Gohan, and their friends Tien and Piccolo. He and his pals just got back from the planet Namek-all except Tien, who had just been brought back from the dead-and were excited to take a week-long trip into the city. However, no one could ever imagine to think the trip could go without Goku shoving his face full of food. "Do you eat this much_ every_ fucking morning?" Piccolo remarked over his morning tea.

"Yeah, y'know Goku, they made us do all the dishes before we even started," Tien said emphasizing the dishes load with his hands, "Because they know we won't be able to afford your entire meal."

"We gotta build up our strength, Tien," Goku said between noodle bowls, "Aren't you any hungrier from coming back from the Next World? I certainly was!"

"Not as much as you were, Goku."

"We've got to do some intense training today, so this visit to the city isn't an entire waste!"

"You got it, Dad!" Gohan replied as he stuffed himself full of food. As they sat in their booth, they noticed a blinding light shine across the sky. Suddenly, a rumbling followed, which shattered all the windows in the restaurant.

"What the fuck was that?!" Piccolo shouted as he jumped up in his seat.

"That sounded like a missile of some sort!" Tien smirked, "Now I can finally test out my training with Kaiō-_sama_."

"Don't you mean 'King Kai'?" the waitress reminded, "This fanfic is in American English, and the American Dub…"

"Shut your fucking face! We'd better get going!" The four jumped out of the noodle joint and flew off to investigate the explosion.

* * *

All the while, Timmy flew over the city in his anti-personnel bubble. "What the fuck made that happen?" he asked his two fairies.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" Wanda sneered, "I'm not fucking God, we don't have all the fucking answers."

"Actually, Timothy," Cosmo interjected while holding up Carl Sagan's _Cosmos_, "This book has…"

"_Shut the fuck up!_" the two replied. They bounded across the street, where Timmy realized that he needed to go to school.

"Ah, shit," he muttered as he tried to steer the bubble to his school's direction, "I gotta get to class."

"Who gives a shit about class?" Wanda reminded, "You murdered your teacher a couple weeks ago, and you just stashed two bodies downtown, while trying to kill someone else. Why do you fucking care about school anymore?"

Timmy grabbed Wanda by the collar and growled, "Because we've got to milk the school-rogue schtick until it's fucking dry."

"Okay, alright. We'll go find your school," The fairies floated for a while silently, until Wanda said, "Maybe you should wish…"

"I'll wish for you to _shove a fucking lead pipe up your cunt!_" Timmy screamed until he was red in the face, "_Shut the fuck up!_" and with that, the three bounced around the city until they reached the school.


End file.
